And Straight on 'Til Morning
by emelierose
Summary: "...but initially he wanted to be a pirate." John has begun to read Peter Pan to little Hamish.
1. Chapter 1

"Sherlock." Nothing.

"Sherlock..." The consulting detective didn't move. John hated to wake him, but he had no choice.

"Fa!" A blur of blonde curls toddled past John's legs and stopped in front of the couch. "Fa, geh uh!" He leaned forward and pressed a sloppy kiss into the dark curls in front of him. Sherlock stirred slightly, having learned well to respond to Hamish in the past year and a half.

"You heard him, Sher, get up." John smoothed a hand through the small boy's soft hair. "I have to go to work."

"Don't want to," came the reply, muffled by the couch cushions.

"Sherlock," came the instant reproof. They had both agreed to keep certain behaviours to minimum when Hamish was born. Throwing tantrums was one Sherlock still struggled with.

"I know, I know. I don't have a choice." Sherlock sat up and stretched. He pulled Hamish onto his lap and kissed his hair, trying (and failing) to hide the smile creeping onto his face from being woken up by his favourite people. John pretended he didn't see and set about gathering his things for work.

"There are leftovers in the microwave, please eat something. You've been pushing it, love. And make sure Hamish gets to bed on time." The boy in question pulled a face and his father quickly winked in reassurance while John was searching for his keys.

"I saw that," came the reply from the turned back. "You'll be the ones complaining later and you both know it."

"Yes, John." "Ye, da." Came the simultaneous replies. John smiled and stood in front of his troublemakers.

"Don't have too much fun without me."

"We never do," said Sherlock as he gently tickled their son. "Do we, little one?" Hamish just giggled and squirmed closer. John enjoyed the sound for a moment and then, with a quick kiss to each of them, he left his small family, already regretting the time he'd be away.

* * *

"Fa. Hun-gy." Hamish said, trying to hide a small yawn.

"I don't think you're hungry," Sherlock made sure to say the word correctly without actually correcting it. "I think you're tired." All he got in return for his efforts was a shake of the head and two small arms crossed.

"Well if you're not tired then I guess I won't be able to read to you before bed..." Hamish left his blocks and ran to the stairs as best as he could. Sherlock smiled and followed him. He held out a hand.

"Would you like to attempt them yourself?" Hamish looked up the staircase with a determined face, which was wiped away by another yawn.

"No. Uh!" He held up his arms. Sherlock swooped him up and they started the assent.

"You'll be able to do it soon, you're getting bigger every day."

"No. Yo yi'l un." Sherlock smiled softly and kissed the boy's cheek.

"Of course you're still my little one."

* * *

Ten minutes later, most of it spent debating whether Hamish could wear his warm pyjamas ("Fe!" "Yes, I know you want the ones with the feet, but it's too hot for them." Hamish won.), he was ready for bed. Sherlock looked over the already obscenely full bookshelf. Had they really read all of these in less than two years?

"Which book would you prefer tonight, H?"

"Pe-er Pan." Sherlock looked over, confused as to where he had heard of those stories.

"You don't have Peter Pan."

"Ya. Da ree ih." He pointed to a book on his lamp table, cover tattered and Hamish's bookmark peeking out. Sherlock didn't know what bothered him more, that John had gotten so far into it, which means it had been much longer since Sherlock had read to Hamish than he thought, or that he hadn't noticed it sitting there before.

"Where did he get it?" Sherlock was sure he had seen all of John's things over the last few years. Hamish just shrugged and pulled the book onto the bed. Sherlock, knowing he would get no further information, acquiesced and sat on the edge of the bed.

"'Nuggle," came the immediate demand. Ignoring the mental voice, which sounded peculiarly like John's, telling him to have Hamish ask politely, Sherlock moved to sit up against the pillows. Instantly he had a Hamish plastered to his side and a well-worn book in his lap.

"Comfortable?" Hamish nodded, thumb gravitating towards his mouth. Sherlock gently took the small hand in his, a subtle reminder that they were trying to break that habit, and opened the book with his free hand.

"Chapter 9, The Never Bird..."

* * *

Sherlock had only gotten part way through the chapter when Hamish stopped him with a soft "Fa."

"Yes, Hamish?"

"Ois." Sherlock feigned ignorance.

"What do you mean?" Hamish just looked at him with the 'we-both-know-what's-going-on-here' face. Sherlock sighed. "Fine. But we both know I'm bad at story voices."

"No bad. Jus diff'ernt." Sherlock kissed the curls laying on his side, thankful of the tolerance Hamish had learned from his biological dad. He began again, this time letting himself enjoy the story, his voice bringing the words to life. Within minutes, Hamish had fallen asleep.

* * *

When John arrived home an hour later, he toed off his shoes and went up to Hamish's room as silently as he could. Stopping in the shadows of the hallway he looked in and just watched. Sherlock was still up reading, as John had guessed he would be. His hand subconsciously stroked the mass of blonde hair on their sleeping boy as his eyes eagerly soaked in the children's book. Stepping into the room, John removed his jacket. Sherlock looked up and then glanced at the clock.

"Get lost in Neverland?" John quipped, smiling as he carefully sat by the unoccupied side of Sherlock and gave the detective a quick kiss.

"I was just catching up on what you've read to him so I can clarify any points of inquiry."

"And going ahead so nothing takes you by surprise, correct?"

"Exactly." Sherlock grinned and carefully marked his place. "Where did you get this?"

"It was mine when I was little. I knew Hamish was getting bored of all his other stories so I brought it back from home last time I was there. I thought he might like it, what with the flying and pirates and all that." They both heard the implied 'you' in that statement.

"He did seem to enjoy it."

* * *

A/N: I still have some ideas for expanding on this part of Hamish's life, so it's marked as In-Progress. I'm not sure when it will be updated, though. I'm going to try to post a new story every Sunday and eventually I'll get back around to the Peter Pan thing. Promise. ;)


	2. Chapter 2

"Fa…will you pay with me?"

Sherlock looked up from his experiment to see Hamish peeking around over the kitchen table. The two-year-old grinned at having gained his Father's attention and Sherlock couldn't help but grin back. And playing with his son always help him gain some useful insight…but the solution to the case hinged on the results of this experiment…

"How about this, H, I'll play with you as soon as this is done. And until I'm ready you can enjoy a surprise that Daddy brought home for you."

"Su-pies?" Hamish's eyes lit up, knowing that Sherlock would keep his word about playing as soon as possible.

"Yes, a surprise," Sherlock got up and held out his arms for his son. Hamish jumped up for Sherlock to catch him and giggled. "You remember how you liked reading Peter Pan?"

Hamish held out his arms as Sherlock made him 'fly' to the sitting room.

"Ya! With Cap'n Hook!" Hamish came down for a landing on the couch and Sherlock gave his blonde curls a kiss.

"Well Daddy got you the Disney movie of it." Sherlock went to put in the DVD, leaving Hamish to curl up on the sofa, feet kicking in anticipation.

* * *

"No! It's his lef hand!" Sherlock glanced up to see Hamish yelling at the movie, his little hand held out as if to show John Darling what he was doing wrong. And sure enough, Wendy corrected John's mistake a few seconds later. Sherlock smirked to himself and went back to analysing his first trial's results.

* * *

A few minutes later Peter yelled "off to Neverland!" and Sherlock looked to catch the blur of Hamish as he ran around pretending to fly. His small wings carried him into the kitchen and around where Sherlock was attempting to focus on the work in front of him instead of the ball of happiness flying back to the couch.

* * *

When Hook appeared and Hamish started giggling at Mr. Smee's antics, Sherlock couldn't take it anymore. Two successful trials would be more than enough to prove which suspect was responsible, and Hamish wasn't getting any younger. Turning off the microscope and scribbling a few last notes, Sherlock stood up and went to join his little Lost Boy in Neverland.

* * *

John arrived home from work to find the world's only consulting detective snuggled up with their son, completely uncaring that his other experiments were going stale. The DVD menu was running in the background as the two of them slept; dreams of fairies and ticking crocodiles were the only things of import in their cosy little world.

* * *

A/N: Just a short little update in the world of Hamish. More to come, hopefully not quite as short.


End file.
